


Bah Humbuggery

by jellybeanforest



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872
Genre: Alcoholism, Blacksmith Tony Stark, Cap-IronMan Community Gifts, Drunk Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Prison Sex, Sex between jailer and jailed, Sheriff Steve Rogers, Unhappy Ending, quid pro quo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest
Summary: On Christmas Eve 1870, Sheriff Steve Rogers arrests blacksmith Tony Stark for public drunkenness. Tony would do just about anything to get out. Anything at all.Based on a prompt for the 2020 Cap-IronMan Community Gifts.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange





	Bah Humbuggery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> So, the title is supposed to be a pun, a portmanteau of “Bah Humbug” from a Christmas Carol and “Buggery” which is an old term for sodomy (oral or anal sex), but is typically defined as anal sex. This fic only includes oral sex. Humbuggery is a real word meaning dishonest talk, writing, or behavior that is intended to deceive people.
> 
> In the 1872 comics, Tony fell into alcoholism due to guilt. His invention, the Stark repeating rifle, ended the Civil War early but at a great loss of life when the Union failed to warn the Confederacy they had procured the weapons to force a surrender, instead choosing to demonstrate them in a decisive battle that wiped out the other side.
> 
> Also, in the first issue, Steve gets into a shoot-out and tells Tony: “Now would be a good time to skin that piece I know you’ve got up your sleeve,” referring to his quick-draw contraption he has on his wrist for a gun. Tony replies, “I can’t argue with that. But since you last saw it, I’ve made some modifications… which I now regret,” and shows him that he replaced the gun with a flask. This is an explanation for how Steve knew about his device.

“Oh Danny Boy… The pipes, the pipes are ca-all-ling,” Tony sings off-key from the depths of the drunk tank.

“Not tonight, Stark,” Sheriff Rogers calls out from his desk. He’s lounging in his chair, his legs crossed and boots propped up on his desk. He doesn’t even look up from the book he’s reading by the light of the oil lamp. With Deputy Barnes already gone home to the missus, leaving him to watch over the jail’s lone occupant, the sheriff is not in a particularly charitable mood. “Don’t you know any other songs?” he complains.

“Would you prefer ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’ or perhaps ‘Jingle Bells’ is more your style?” Tony drawls. He leans on the bars, his elbows bent and arms peeking out, reaching towards the sheriff across the room, his wrist rolling in a flourish. “I take requests.”

“How ‘bout you just sit quiet for a spell? How would you feel about that?”

“Is there an incentive to fillin’ that request?” Tony attempts to bargain. “I accept cash and get-outta-jail-free cards, ‘specially the latter. I’m a bit light on those at the moment.”

“Glad to see you still have your sense of humor.”

“C’mon Sheriff; it’s Christmas Eve. Ain’t chu feelin’ a touch generous towards your fellow man?”

“My fellow man’s safer when you’re in here sleeping it off rather than out there threatening the barkeep with your derringer on a… what would you call this?” he points to the contraption at one end of his desk. “Your quick draw aide?”

“My gun sleeve and I promise you it weren’t loaded.”

“I can see that,” Steve puts aside his book, his feet swinging off his desk to plant themselves on the hardwood floor. “Still, you’ve earned a few nights in a cell for disturbing the peace.”

Tony is taken aback. “That’s all o’ Christmas, and I promised the Parker boy I’d show ‘im how to fix his wagon tomorrow. You know he hasn’t been the same ever since his Pa died in the war” _from the Stark’s Repeating Arms,_ he doesn’t say. He owes an incalculable debt to Peter and many like him, and though Tony can never really make it up to any of his victim’s families, he is obliged to try at the very least.

(When he isn’t too drunk to do so anyway.)

“Well, you should’a thought of that before you threatened to shoot a man for cuttin’ you off,” Sheriff Rogers states.

Tony scratches at his goatee and considers his options. “Any way you could see it in your heart to let me off early for good behavior?”

“You’d have to be good to earn that.”

“I could be good. I could be real good.”

Sheriff Rogers sounds skeptical. “How?”

Tony can’t let Peter down, not after what he did to him. He swallows, his Adam’s Apple dipping in his throat. “How about you come a little closer and find out?”

Sheriff Rogers sighs, his head falling back in exasperation, but he must have decided to humor his prisoner because he moseys on over to Tony, and hooks his thumbs in his belt, within easy reach of his gun holster. “I don’t see how if you can’t follow simple–”

Tony’s hands zip through the bars and grab a hold of the man’s ascot to pull Sheriff Rogers closer. He gives him a clumsy kiss that nearly clicks their teeth together but manages to cut off his protestations. At least temporarily.

Rogers leans back slightly, breaking their kiss. “Stark, wh– what?”

If the sheriff is confused, Tony must be out of practice, so his hands tangle in Sheriff’s locks, guiding him back down for another kiss. His lips are softer now, more purposeful, as his tongue seeks entrance in the other man’s mouth. Something in Rogers’s body loosens then, and his tongue meets Tony’s, tentative and sweet.

Tony’s hand slides down, sweeping around the front to cup the sheriff’s growing erection, betraying the man’s interest. He reaches for his belt, undoing the worn leather from his buckle before going to work on the buttons.

Tony nips at his jawline, his lips light on the man’s neck as he whispers. “I’ve seen you lookin’. I know you want me; have wanted me ever since I come to town.” He undoes the very last button and reaches inside to pull out his dick.

Sheriff Rogers groans, tries to deny it even as he clasps the iron bars and presses his pelvis into Tony’s hand, trying to inch closer.

“Sh, sh… I know ‘cause I’ve been lookin’ too,” Tony says, dropping to his knees. Rogers’s dick is large, thick and well-formed, and Tony wonders with more than a little trepidation if he will be able to fit the entire thing in his mouth. “You think you can’t have me, but you can, Sheriff,” he continues with more confidence than he feels.

“T– Tony.” His given name is odd on Sheriff Rogers’s tongue. “Tony.”

“We can help each other out and both get what we want, yeah?” Tony strokes him then holds him steady at the base to give his dick a tentative lick up the underside of the shaft from bottom to tip as the man shudders and moans. It’s salty and musky and not entirely unpleasant. If the circumstances had been different, perhaps Tony would have even wanted this.

“Tony… Tony please.” Sheriff Rogers buries his a gloved hand in Tony’s hair, but he doesn’t push Tony forward to impale him on the behemoth, content to simply rest atop his head, but Tony gets the message. If he does this for the sheriff, Tony can walk out of here tonight. He thinks of Peter drawing pictures of what his family should look like in the margins of his schoolwork.

He has done more for less.

He takes Rogers down deep, his lips straining around the man’s generous girth and his cockhead hitting the back of his throat much too soon. A less-experienced person would choke, but Tony simply draws back, sucking lightly on the member, his hands providing pressure and an extension of the experience. His head bobs as he eases him in and out, trying to please him with his hands, his mouth and tongue.

Rogers moans, Tony’s name soft and breathy on his lips like a prayer as he gently thrusts, his pelvis unable to get past the bars. Tony is glad for it, ridiculously grateful the jailhouse setting means he ultimately controls the depth and speed of their encounter. Rogers could probably suffocate him on his cock, pin him down, and plunge deep into his throat until Tony blacked out. Perhaps Tony would even come to with his throat burning and breathing labored, his pants pushed halfway down his thighs and the man thrusting roughly in and out of his ass.

Tony cups Sheriff’s balls, gently squeezing them as the man’s knees buckle, his thighs bowing away. He takes the opportunity to venture back, lightly glancing over the man’s asshole.

Rogers gently pushes on his shoulder. “No, not there,” he mumbles.

_Figures._

A lot of men out west were like that, more flexible with the identity of their sexual partners (if not certain sexual acts). Considering the dearth of women out here, sometimes a mouth was a mouth, and a hole was a hole, and as long as no one played with their holes, a man could pretend he wasn’t a sodomite.

Tony retreats, returning to stroking his thighs, but he takes him in deeper, his lips buried in the man’s blonde curls, ensuring Sheriff can feel his short stubble where Tony had failed to shave that morning. It doesn’t seem to dampen his pleasure any, and the name on his lips is still undeniably male.

Tony makes it sloppy and speeds up, his hand working the base as his talented tongue swirls around the head and tip.

“I’m… I’m coming,” Sheriff warns him, but Tony doesn’t let up, not until Steve groans, his body going tight and fluttery and Tony’s mouth fills with warm, salty fluid. It starts to leak out, so Tony swallows it down.

He thinks vaguely that even working girls spit.

When Sheriff finally goes lax, Tony pulls off the man’s softening member, wiping the corner of his mouth on his wrist where his spend had dribbled. He coughs discreetly, rises and straightens his clothing, brushing off the dust of his cell. “Am I free to go now?” he asks.

“Hm?” Sheriff is still clasping onto the bars, his body loose and sated. He makes no move towards the padlock.

Tony fidgets, nervous that Sheriff Rogers won’t hold up his end of the bargain now that he got what he wanted. “I was real good for you, so you’re letting me go?” he clarifies. “I can go home, right?”

The man frowns. “Tony–”

Tony nervously scratches at his cheek. “Come on, Sheriff; I got down on my knees and asked ever so pretty. I promise not to tell nobody neither,” he begs, his voice cracking. He crosses his arms with one hand scratching the opposite elbow, his shoulders hunched. Did he just degrade himself for nothing? “This can be our little secret, yeah? Nobody’s gotta know.”

Tony wouldn’t want this spread around Timely either. He doesn’t have a lot of pride left, but he still wouldn’t want anyone to know how far the former millionaire arms dealer had fallen, from sipping champagne in a New York mansion to turning tricks in a grubby jailhouse on the Western front.

Sheriff Rogers didn’t seem like the type to renege on a deal, but will Tony have to offer more access to his body? It would be easier if the sheriff would come into the cell and bend him over the jailhouse cot instead of try to bugger him through the bars with nothing for Tony to hold onto to keep upright. He’s flexible; he could probably arch backwards to grab onto the bars for leverage, his body taut as a bowstring, but he’s not sure how long he can keep that position all things considered. He imagines the man’s dick – his mouth so recently straining to contain its girth – splitting open his ass instead. Tony had already come this far, but he don’t got no oil on him, and he reckons the sheriff is running low hisself. Tony scrunches his eyes closed against unshed tears. The sheriff… he’s a fair man. He’d want Tony to be able to walk out after, right? He wouldn’t be so cruel as to–

Sheriff Rogers unlocks the door. “You’re free to go, Stark.”

Tony collects himself, and before Sheriff changes his mind, he steps out, a free man. “Pleasure doin’ business with you.” The pleasure’s mostly the sheriff’s, he supposes. Tony can still taste the man on his tongue. He’d like to go home, maybe wash out the flavor of his humiliation with a bottle of moonshine from the still.

“Don’t forget your gun sleeve on your way out.” The sheriff’s voice is subdued, almost wooden, and he can’t quite look at Tony, caught as he is in the horror of post-orgasm clarity.

Perhaps Sheriff will head on down to the brothel to reinforce his masculinity, to assure himself that this tryst with the local drunk was only a fluke, a temporary blip in his otherwise uncomplicated sexuality. But all that is not Tony’s business now that _their business_ has concluded.

Tony collects his gun sleeve and exits into the brisk night air.

Later, when he’s bleary-eyed and drunker than he has been in a long while, he reconfigures the contraption, removing the derringer entirely in favor of a flask. After all, when was the last time he needed a gun when a drink would do just as well?

He lays his head on his workbench, his gaze tilted as he stares at the dwindling bottle of moonshine. It tastes awful, like furniture polish, and probably would work best to strip the varnish off his wooden floors. It’s certainly not fit for human consumption.

Tony fumbles for the bottle, tips it to his lips, and downs the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a blend of two prompts: 
> 
> 1) One night, fed up with Tony’s drunken antics, Steve brings Tony inside to cool off in a cell. Tony won’t stop singing and calling out to Steve though. Steve goes to confront him and ends up giving into a dark impulse: He takes advantage of Tony while inebriated. (So noncom or dubcon – maybe this version of Steve realizes the implications of what he’s doing, maybe he doesn’t.)
> 
> 2) Blacksmith Tony Stark gets arrested and detained overnight for public drunkenness by Sheriff Steve Rogers on Christmas Eve.


End file.
